


The Mills Emerald: No Rest for the Wicked

by OUATcsishewolf (csishewolf)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Dark, Detective Noir, F/M, Mystery, Out of Character, Porn With Plot, Romance, Smut, Snark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-29
Updated: 2016-07-29
Packaged: 2018-07-26 22:24:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7592560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/csishewolf/pseuds/OUATcsishewolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>There wasn't a lot of excitement in the small town of Storybrooke, and Detective Hades was certain he'd seen it all.</i>
  <br/>
  <i>Until the day she walked in... and proved him wrong.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Mills Emerald: No Rest for the Wicked

**Author's Note:**

> **Disclaimer:** Once Upon A Time and all characters portrayed within the canon universe of this television program are the property of American Broadcasting Companies, Inc. They also belong to Adam Horowitz  & Edward Kitsis. In other words: they ain't mine, and I'm going to burn in hell for this.
> 
> **Beta Props:** UnfairestOfThemAll is a saint among women. This isn't her thing, but I had her beta it twice _and_ I bombarded her with help on the title and summary! Half of that title is hers. Best.Beta.Evah.
> 
> **Warnings/Categorization:** PWP. AU. OOC. **NC-17** _Please Respect The Rating._
> 
> **Alternate Universe Setting:** Storybrooke, 1929. Think black-and-white detective noir films, and you're there.
> 
> * * *

She strode through my door with the late afternoon’s storm glistening in her fiery hair, and I knew she was trouble. The inky black gloves, speckled with rain, rode high up her forearms, and the matching cloak that covered her tight green dress was dripping all over my scuffed wooden floors. Heels too high for comfort clapped loudly as she approached. 

“Please,” she pleaded in a voice sharp as steel, “the police told me that you were the only one in town that could help me.”

“You’re wet,” I told her.

This made her blink her heavily shadowed eyes. “Well, it’s raining. What would you have me do?”

“Not drip all over my floors, for one.”

She perused my office with a sneer. “This isn’t the Hilton.”

“All the more reason to keep it from deteriorating further. Unlike you, I don’t have pennies to spare on frivolities like designer shoes and fancy dresses.”

“Who says I have pennies to spare?”

I pointed at her shoes. “Prada.” Then her dress. “Gucci.” Then the gloves. “Also Gucci, although from an earlier year.”  I lowered my glasses and peered directly into those sky blue eyes. “They aren’t even your Sunday finest. Unless, of course, you are a truly foolish girl, and let yourself get caught unprepared in the daily 3 p.m. rain that frequents these parts this time of year.”

She studied me, her features trading in the damsel-in-distress act for a more serious, shrewd intensity. I won’t lie; it was as appealing as it was alarming. Vamp was never my style. But a beautiful woman with a brain, well, that’s the stick-a-fork-in-me variety. Because I’m done.

Wordlessly she turned, and I figured she was out my door. But instead she shed her dark cloak and draped it over my slate grey trench dangling from the battered wooden rack by the door. Bare shoulders burned lewd images into my brain as she clop-clopped her way back to my desk and settled her tight ass into the squishy leather chair on the right.

“I need something found. A family heirloom.” She plucked a small photo from the black satin clutch I hadn’t noticed she carried. I had the extreme pleasure of tracing my fingertips over those silky gloves when I lifted it from her grasp. Everything about this woman screamed high class, yet her words and those eyes didn’t quite fit. Maybe she’s new money – won the lottery, or married into it.

The photograph was a simple one, a straight shot of a square-cut emerald mounted in a frame of what appeared to be white gold or platinum. It’s a large setting, with each of the eight sides sporting a small spike outwards. Aggressive, really, and potentially powerful. But I wasn’t going to ask about it. Magic was strictly forbidden in Storybrooke, and those who practiced it were banished. The fact that I had it, and knew how to use it, was something only a select few were privy to. One being me. The other was a long time ago, and hopefully they kept their little mouth shut about it.

“Will you help me?” The words were sincere this time, and damn it all to Hell, but I was going to tell her yes.

“One thousand dollars. Up front.”

The pretty brows narrowed. “Five hundred dollars up front, and fifteen hundred more when you find it. In cash, if you’d like.” Those long fingers reached into the clutch and returned holding a thin, gold-clipped stack of new Benjamins. She peeled off two, then three more, and placed them all in a pile on the edge of my desk, far enough away that I had to reach for them. Given that dinner of late was of the beans and rice variety, I didn’t mind standing and leaning forward to snatch them from her.

“You can keep the picture. For reference.” She stood and turned abruptly, evidently dismissing me.

Not so fast, lady.  “We’re not done.”  I caught up with her at the door, as she was swinging her cloak over those lovely shoulders. Although she was a tall one, I still had a couple of inches on her. “You need to give me some more information. When’d you see this last? Who knows about it?”

She really was a looker and the lower half of my body was reacting in a decidedly unprofessional manner.  That faint perfume she wore – it was delicious. I wanted to taste it, and her, but I had a long-standing rule not to bed the clients. That’s one of the first things listed in the undocumented codebook of the detective – never make it personal. But damned if she wasn’t making me reconsider.

“I also need a number. A way to contact you once I’ve found it.”

She tilted her chin to the ceiling, exposing that creamy neck and filling my office and my libido with more of her scent. Those eyes were ice though, as they peered down at me. “You ask for a lot, Mr. Hades. I thought you were the best. You have the photo and five hundred dollars.” She crinkled her nose. “I think you’d better get to earning it.”

With that she spun on her Prada heel and pulled on the door handle. I leaned forward and slammed it shut with the base of my palm. I planted my face a few millimeters from hers and spat, “Lady, you’re something else. If you think you’re leaving my office without giving me anything to go on, you are gravely mistaken.”

“Fine,” she snarled back, not giving an inch. “Ask me whatever it is you want to know.”

“When’d you see the emerald last?”

Her response was immediate. “Last week.”

“Who knows you have it?”

A look of disdain. “Everyone I know. I used to wear it all the time.”

Not helpful, beautiful. But the timeframe helped. If someone stole it and pawned it, it would be fresh in Mr. Gold’s memory. He’d drool over a piece like that. I knew he had power too. Magic.  I felt it humming around him every time I visited his musty old shop. But, like I said, it’s never discussed.

“One more. What’s your name?”

Red lips curved up in a soft smile, and I felt my heart skip a beat or two. Her eyes flickered with an unspoken promise, and I swear, in that moment, I would have walked on water for her. “Zelena. Zelena Mills.”

ooooooooooooooo

I got on the horn with Charon five minutes after she walked out my door.  Charon was excellent at ferrying me information, and right now I needed a boatload of it.

“The mayor’s sister was just in my office,” I told him.

“No shit! I heard she’s a looker.”

Understatement of the century, my friend. “She’s okay.”

“Redheads not your type? I hear they’re pretty feisty in the sack. Matches their hair. You know you can tell if they’re real by…”

“Charon, for chrissake, can we not turn this into a porno? I need her story. Zelena Mills. I also need anything you can dig up about any jewelry traffic over the past week.” I fingered the photograph again. This puppy had to have magic. “Big emerald. Square-cut, but curvy about it. Mounted into a white gold or platinum pendant setting. Spikes all over it. You’d know it if you saw it.”

I knew I’d regret it, but I mentioned it anyway. “Check the underground too. This stone might have something extra in it.”

Charon choked on his gasp. Like I said, magic was strictly forbidden. “Hades, my man, why’d you take this case?”

“Two grand. Cash.”

He whistled. “Yeah. But still… this has dirty written all over it. Mayor Regina’s sister? And…”

I sighed. “I know. But my current diet of kidney bean stew and coffee isn’t cutting it, okay? Things have been slow.”

“Okay. You’re the boss. I’m on it. Finder’s fees still apply, you know.”

“Only if what you bring me pans out. Ten percent. You know where to find me, Charon. Don’t let me down. I want to wrap this one up quickly and treat myself to a nice steak dinner tomorrow night.”

“I’m on it.” I heard him plunk down the receiver two seconds before the operator disconnected the call with a pop-click. I checked my watch. It was close enough to quitting time, so I decided to call it a day. I was certain my boss wouldn’t mind, given that he’s me after all.

I took my .38 Smith & Wesson out from the top drawer of my poor dilapidated desk and tucked it snugly into the black holster I wore permanently as a belt.  I had no other cases, and hence no paperwork to bring home to my studio apartment three blocks away. I lifted my scuffed grey fedora off the top of the coatrack. It had seen better days, as had I. Stomach rumbling, I shrugged into my trench coat and locked my door. The lettering imprinted on the glass was starting to yellow, and the small ‘e’s at the end of ‘Storybrooke’ and ‘Detective’ were scratched, along with the ‘y’ in ‘Agency’. God, I needed that money. I walked home shrouded in the hazy fog left over from the afternoon’s rain, and wondered how my life had wound up so thoroughly embedded in the shitter.

oooooooooooooooo

The next morning, after a breakfast of – you guessed it – coffee and cold beans, I headed back into work. Gotta be behind that door on the off chance some poor sot walked through it and needed my help. I meandered past Granny’s diner to catch a whiff of the good life. Granny’s - where the town’s real people went and bought real food with real money. I watched them smile and laugh as they happily lived out their horribly boring lives. None of them had a care in the world. They never worried for a second about magic. But I did. I was terrified there were ways they’d know – like those sensors and metal detectors you see in magazines. That’s why I ate what I ate, and lived like I lived.

What if the opposite were true of Zelena? What if she had access to magic, or did it herself? That would explain the high-end lifestyle that clashed with the desperation in her eyes. The rich aren’t desperate. They’re pathetic.

It was food for thought as I walked up the rickety stairs to my office. Once, in my heyday, I came up here and found the pane of my door smashed and the place trashed. A client’s wife was furious that I caught her in flagrante delicto with another man. Those were some pretty steamy pictures, let me tell you. Lots of leather. And oil. The husband was one of those bright, upstanding citizens, and learning of his wife’s extracurricular activities in the sadomasochism market turned his stomach. Literally. He puked his guts out for five minutes in the small commode down the hall. Afterwards, he dropped her like a bad habit.   When the final court settlement came through, well… the psych ward told me she was just having a bad day. My insurance paid for the repairs on my door and some new-to-me office furniture. So it wasn’t the end of the world, but each day I wondered if I’d walk up those stairs and find shattered glass under my shoes again.

Today was a dud. My business logo was as faded and scarred as ever, my floors were dusty and my desk was as bare as a baby’s behind. I flipped through old newspapers to pass the time until Charon called. I didn’t have to wait long.

“Storybrooke Detective Agency.”

“Hades, it’s me.”

Of course it’s him. Charon was the only person that had dialed my number in the past two months. “Talk to me.”

“Bad news, my friend. Jewelry traffic is quiet. Even… underground. Got quite a bit on your Miss Mills though, including a couple of shots of her wearing that pendant. You’re right – that’s unique. Might be why traffic is quiet.”

This wasn’t surprising, but it meant I had to pay a visit to Mr. Gold. Our last chat didn’t go so well, and I wasn’t eager for a rematch. But the hollow in my gut, and the thought of a nice, juicy tenderloin and a vintage Merlot was enough to light a fire under my ass.

“Meet me at our spot in twenty minutes. Bring everything you have, but stuff it in a brown paper bag for me, okay?” I didn’t want Gold sticking his beaky nose where it didn’t belong. During my last visit, I made the mistake of taking case files with me. It was ‘an accident’ when he scattered them all across his floor. He was ever so helpful in picking them up, too.  

My request confused Charon. “Like a bag from the market?”

“Yes. Exactly.”

Seconds passed, and I swore I heard the gears of his simple mind churning away. “Why do you want the stuff in a bag?”

“Bags are handy. Good for carrying things. Dammit Charon, just put everything in a bag and get your ass over here!”

“All right. You don’t need to be cranky about it. That redhead fire you up or something?”

Hell would freeze over before I’d ever admit some two-bit piece of fluff got under my skin. But he wasn’t far off. Meeting Zelena did something me; stirred up things I spent a long time suppressing. All the more reason to get this case closed.

Twenty-two and a half minutes later, I toted my brown bag over to Mr. Gold’s office. I was also toting my .38 under my jacket, but instinct told me it wasn’t going to be necessary. Battles with Gold were battles of the mind.

The bells above his door chimed brightly when I entered the dimly lit pawnshop. It reeked of age, of death and of power. Damn place clogged up my sinuses every time I walked in here.

The man of the hour stood regally behind his glass counter, hands resting idly on the gold-plated head of his cane.

“Detective Hades! Always a joy and a delight. How might I be of service to our resident gumshoe today?”

“Drop the act, Gold. We both know this isn’t a social call.”

Gold clicked his tongue. “Now, now, no need for such hostilities on such a beautiful day.”

I did not have time for this bullshit. I tucked the brown bag under one arm and pulled the photo from the inside pocket of my jacket with the other. I slammed it down on the glass countertop in front of him, causing the entire cabinet to rattle.

This got his attention. “Mind you, do not destroy my belongings, Mr. Hades.” Gold’s tone dropped twenty degrees, and the atmosphere of the store rose twenty. Finally. Now we could get down to business.

“Looking for an emerald. Unique. See one like it lately, say within the past week?” I slid the photo towards him with the tip of my index finger.

He picked it up and I knew I hit some type of pay dirt. “This is no ordinary stone. But I suppose you already knew that, didn’t you.”

It’s not the first time Gold’s tried to fish for information about magic with me. I could only assume he sensed it in me, like I did in him. Two rats that could smell each other’s filth from a mile away. “I know it’s worth a small fortune, if that’s what you mean.”

“This is the Mills Emerald. Passed down from generation to generation via the first-born child. Once the property of royalty. It is rumored to have… unique properties.” Gold waved his hand dramatically, like he always did.

Cue the eye roll. “Cut the theatrics, Gold. Have you seen it or not?”

“No, sadly I have not. The last time I saw it was as the birthday party of my grandson. His lovely aunt had it hanging around her lovely neck.”

“And when exactly was that?”

Gold replied, “Three weeks ago, almost to the day, now that I think about it.”

Ugh. This was a dead end. If Gold had seen this recently, his eyes wouldn’t have lit up like the Fourth of July when I showed him the picture. He was thrilled it was lost. He was probably going to conjure up some spell to try and find it. Perfect. Now I had another reason to hurry – I had to find the damned thing before he did.

“Thank you for your time, Mr. Gold.”

He sneered at me. “I always enjoy our visits, Detective Hades. Do drop by again soon.”

oooooooooooooooo

I flipped through Charon’s paperwork, surprised at how much he was able to gather in such a short time. Zelena owned property on the outskirts of town – a farmhouse with a sizable plot of land tied to it. She also had some investments that were cooking along nicely, and she was involved in some philanthropic activities sponsored by her sister. Her bank account was more than capable of paying me, and then some. Health and dental records showed she was as fit as a fiddle.

Yet, there was no sign of an education, or of a work history. No marriage records. She just seemed to appear in Storybrooke one day and settle herself right in. There’s no birth certificate either.

I debated calling her – Charon did find me a number. Then I debated visiting with Madame Mayor. Perhaps she was aware of her sister’s misplaced trinket, and then again - perhaps not. It was risky, talking to the mayor. She and I worked on very different levels, and ran with very different crowds. I didn’t recall ever speaking with her one-on-one. Was I willing to risk it over two thousand dollars?

No, but I was willing to risk it for two thousand dollars and a chance to make Zelena happy. Dammit, I knew I was going to regret taking this case.

I drove my car to the Town Hall and parked it legally, meter and all. I knew a lot of the folks that worked here, but I sat outside of her office and sweated anyway, fidgeting with my shirt and tie. The bitch made me wait over fifteen minutes before she opened the door and let me in.

She was dressed in elegance as well, but then, that’s par for the course with a mayor. Her clothing was custom-tailored, and fit her like those satiny gloves fit Zelena. Perfection. Both sisters had a sharp edge to their voice, and a wariness born of wisdom in their eyes. But the mayor clearly had more experience in dealing with people.

Her manicured hand was soft but firm as it gripped mine in greeting. “Do sit down, Detective Hades. I’m aware of your work but I’m afraid I cannot recall meeting you. Have we met before?”

“No, Madame Mayor. But, as I’m sure you are aware, everyone in Storybrooke knows who you are.”

She grinned politely. “Perk of the job, I suppose? I don’t quite see myself as a celebrity.”

Neither did the people of the town, but I wasn’t about to enlighten her. We all knew that she was the judge, jury and executioner for anyone that practiced magic. We all saw how she banished that old man into a swirling hole in the sky, the poor fellow screaming his fool lungs out, begging and pleading with her to spare him. That was three years ago, and I swear I haven’t slept right since.

“Please, have a seat. So, what brings you to my office today?”

Her office was something else, all black and white art deco. That desk had to be walnut and was definitely an antique. The Mills family certainly liked to surround themselves with the finer things.

She leaned back in her burgundy leather office chair, like a queen settling herself onto her throne. Gold said royalty ran in their blood, and I could see it in the way she studied me. Like I was a cross between an appetizer and a bug she wanted to squish beneath her rich suede boot.

“Have you spoken with your sister recently?”

Her face blanched a couple of shades. “Is Zelena okay?” I saw her fingers twitch, instinctively wanting to flip on the intercom to her secretary, but she reined it in. Well whaddayaknow. Underneath that pristine shell was an actual human being.

“She is fine, Madame Mayor. I saw her yesterday. She’s concerned about an item she lost. A family heirloom – the Mills Emerald. I was hoping you might be able to…”

Regina screeched, “WHAT? She lost it?!”

Seriously, she might have hit high C on that last word. My eardrums claimed yes, but you never can tell.

“I believe your sister mentioned it disappeared a little over a week ago. I assumed she had consulted with you. It seems not?”

I didn’t think those eyes of hers could get any darker, but they morphed into black drops of coal beading within the slits of her eyes. Wow, I’m batting a thousand today. First I set Gold on the trail of the lost Emerald and now I’ve started a family feud.  

“No, Detective. I wasn’t aware. And if you’ll excuse me, I do think I’ll need to speak with my sister immediately on this matter. As you said, it is a _family_ heirloom and its loss impacts us both.”

“Mayor, if there is anything you can tell me…”

But I knew it was a losing battle, and she shooed me out of her office with a wave and a scowl.

I took my rust-bucket of a Chevy back to the parking lot behind my office building. There’s no sense in locking it, no one in their right mind would ever want it. But I’m fond of it. The old girl and I had spent a lot of long nights together, eating chips, tailing crooks, watching perverts. Just like an old married couple.

I walked up the concrete stairs for the second time in eight hours, and although the glass wasn’t smashed, my door was ajar. The .38 was snug in my palm seconds later, safety off. I stopped a few feet from the door and listened.

Nada. I counted to sixty and there wasn’t a peep from my office. I lowered my gun and pushed the door open with my toe.

“Well it’s about time. You’re late.”

It was her. I clicked the safety on and re-holstered the Smith & Wesson. I wasn’t about to shoot the most beautiful client I’d ever had. Now, whether or not she intended me any harm remained to be seen.

I paraded into my office like I owned it, which I did, and Miss Mills was reclining comfortably in my chair, those impractical Pradas of hers propped up on my desk.

“I got a call from my sister," she intoned. "You know, the Mayor.”

“Very aware. Just visited with her in fact. Lovely woman. Good with people. Respectful of their property.”  Unlike you. “Get away from my desk, Zelena. Unless you want me to call my pals down at the Sheriff’s office and have them arrest you for breaking and entering?”

“You could try that,” she purred, “but I doubt it would work. Mayor trumps Sheriff in this town, Mr. Hades.” She did return her heels to the floor, but the rest of her remained in my chair, spinning it slowly. Her brows furrowed. “You weren’t supposed to speak with her. She didn’t take my pendant.”

“You neglected to tell me not to, Miss Mills.”

“Well, I never figured you would! Everyone knows my sister wouldn’t steal. It would be _scandalous_.”  The sarcasm dripped from the last word like syrup. Perhaps that sisterly love only flowed one way. Intriguing.

“I’m not everyone.”

“No, you certainly are not. Are you aware of the odor in this leather? I mean really, do you bathe?”

I was in her face faster than she could blink. “Get the hell outta my chair, witch.”

I scared her; I saw the flash of fear in her eyes before her defenses flared back to life. “Gladly. I don’t think I could have survived another minute in it.”

“Then you shouldn’t have sat in it in the first place.”

That clamped her jaw shut. “True,” she sang a moment later as she strode away from my desk, her voice returning to those haughty tones she carried so well. “But I wanted to see what it was like, being the mighty Detective Hades. You really were something, back in the day. How the mighty have fallen.”

If I wasn’t a gentleman, I would have grabbed her shoulders and shook her until her teeth rattled. But given that I was, I opted for a different approach.

“And yet here you are in my office. You were here yesterday too, begging for my help. Who has fallen further, my dear? Me… or you?”

Her tone dropped to ice. “Leave my sister out of this, Hades. It doesn’t involve her.”

“Last time I checked, you were paying me to do a job. Now why don’t you run along like a good little girl and let me do it for you?”

Her shoulders flinched at the ‘good little girl’ comment. It was clear she had enough, as she sashayed her rather fine ass to my door seconds later. “I mean it,” she said as she stood in the doorway. “This needs to stay between me and you.”

Oh does it now? “So canvassing door-to-door is not an option?”

She glared at me. “Find my pendant. Use whatever means necessary. But don’t make it public knowledge that it’s lost. Are we clear?”

“Crystal.”

“Excellent. Good day, Detective.” The door slammed loudly behind her, and it took a good ten minutes for the blood to stop pounding in my ears.

Either I was going to kill her, or I was falling in love with her.

oooooooooooooooo

The alarm clock by my bedside showed 11:15 p.m. I watched it switch to 11:16 and then 11:17. Insomnia, thou art my namesake tonight. I thought rest would help. I thought reading would help. Nothing helped. I couldn’t get her out of my mind, and I knew there was only one way to find her godforsaken pendant and close the case for good.

Magic. A spell. There were locator spells, and detector spells, but what I needed was a seer spell. I needed to see the person who had that pendant.

I hadn’t practiced magic in years. But I studied it, and I knew what I had to do. I even had the right ingredients, a leftover cosmetic mirror from my last dalliance with a woman and the cracked lens of an old Polaroid camera.

I just… didn’t want to do it. It was wrong, and I gave up on doing wrong a long time ago. Part of me said that no one would know. That I was overly paranoid. That one little spell in one tiny handheld mirror wouldn’t raise any eyebrows. I stayed in my bed for fifteen more minutes, staring at the ceiling until I finally bit the bullet. I had to know.

I gathered up the compact, the camera, and the rest of the ingredients I needed and stuffed them into Charon’s brown paper bag. I dug out my old flashlight and threw it in there as well. I dressed in black pants and a faded shirt before tossing on my old black blazer. I grabbed my keys from the glass bowl by the door, shoved my .38 back where it belonged and took my crinkly brown bag for a late night stroll.

I hugged alleyways and shadows until I made it to the edge of the woods. Once I was there, I pulled out the flashlight, shining it over my feet to minimize the light. I already knew where I was going, but I didn’t need to trip and stumble my way there. When I came to the abandoned well, I flicked it off, letting the moonlight serve as illumination.

The moon wasn’t quite full, which meant the spell wouldn’t be quite as effective, but beggars can’t be choosers. Time to get down to business. First, a cloaking spell. Those were relatively simple, as they used the environment around the person casting it. I set that off in record time and then started in on my seer spell.

I disassembled the old camera to get the lens. I popped out the powder from the compact and set it aside. The mirror section that remained I placed on the edge of the well. Then I pulled out the three vials I brought from home, as well as the moldy orange, the earthenware mortar and pestle, and the bleached bone of a crow.

The bone I crushed first. Then I added vial number one, sap from an almond tree. Next up was vial number two, distilled water infused with garlic. Honestly, half of magic was based on garlic. I peeled the orange and squeezed as much of the sour juice as I could into the mortar. With sticky fingers, I plopped the cracked camera lens into the mixture and swirled it around with the pestle.

The last part was tricky. Vial number 3 was sodium thiopental, aka Truth Serum. I cleared my mind and murmured the incantation while I drizzled it counterclockwise over the earthenware bowl. Blue smoke oozed out in clouds, which made my heart sing. That’s what was supposed to happen. I waited for it to settle before carrying it gingerly over to the well.

I turned the compact and faced it so that the moon was showing in the reflection. As carefully as I could, I dipped my pinky finger into the mixture. It tingled and burned with cold. I lifted out a single drop and delicately dabbed it in the center of small round mirror. The reflection rippled like liquid before clouding over into a swirling slate gray fog.

Success! Score one for me. Seer spells aren’t the easiest things in the world. I picked it up and whispered, “Show me the Mills Emerald.”

The haze of gray spun rapidly and faded to a pale green before displaying the emerald with a soft ‘pop’. The resolution wasn’t crystal clear, but that was definitely Zelena’s lost pendant. Pale fingers were turning it over and over. Feminine, perfectly manicured fingers attached to equally pale hands, one bound in a white bandage near the wrist. I needed the image to zoom out, so I willed it and the compact complied. The owner of those hands was sitting at a golden dressing table laden with the paraphernalia of all females. Brushes. Combs. Perfumes. Cosmetics. All high-end stuff.

Had Regina taken her sister’s pendant? It seemed so unlikely, given her reaction. And then it hit me. God was I stupid. I willed the mirror to zoom out again, and there she was, lost in her daydreams with a soft smile on her face. Zelena. With each second that passed, my rage grew. She played me. Why?

I glared down at her image, furious. She and I were going to have a nice, long chat tomorrow. I was about to cancel the spell, when she lifted her head and glanced into her vanity mirror. Her pretty eyes widened and I slammed the compact shut. Shit! Ten seconds later, I dumped it and everything else I used for the spell down into the well.

She saw me. She knew. Goddammit! My footsteps crunched against the forest floor as I hurried back into town, attempting to wrap my head around what just happened. She was a magic-wielder too. The only way her mirror could have reflected into mine was if she cast a seer spell on it. There was no other explanation.

What was she doing? Was she the mayor’s pit bull, sniffing out folks Regina suspected might have power to find proof of it? This was worse than any nightmare I could have imagined. Someone else knew, and I had to do something about it. Now.

My mind was still spinning when my feet finally pounded pavement again. I felt used. I felt framed. I felt cheated and manipulated and absolutely pissed that the money she promised me, the money I needed to survive, was now nothing more than dust in the wind.

I yanked my car door open so hard that the hinges creaked. I slammed it shut just as hard and the dash rattled. My watch read 2:03 a.m. I didn’t care; I was paying my dear client a visit. If she and her sister planned on taking me down, I was going to take them down with me.

ooooooooooooooo

The driveway to the farmhouse was pitch black beyond my car’s headlights, as was the building itself. Nice try, Zelena, but I know you’re awake.

I cut the engine and dimmed the lights. The silence was deafening. Miss Mills made a mistake when she decided to live out here. No one was going to be around to hear her scream.

I knew I wasn’t thinking straight. I knew that deep down I didn’t want to hurt her. But the fear and the rage were blinding me to any rational thought. I banged on her door, and when she didn’t open it, I attempted to kick it down with my steel-toed boot.

The second my heel touched wood I was tossed back a good twenty feet, landing sprawling in her front yard. The bitch had used magic to lock herself inside! If this wasn’t proof, then nothing was. Blood boiling and now sore from head to toe, I called forth my power and blasted down her damned door.

I ran inside and found myself bathed in light. I squinted and cringed against it, trying to take in the layout of the room. I made out an ornate sofa and armchair. High end armoire and dining table. Persian rug. The more I blinked, the better my eyes adjusted. In the far corner, looking out the magical one-way window, was my prey.

She was wearing the same dressing gown I saw in her reflection, a pale affair in shades of jade that whispered of silk and elegance. Parts of it were sheer, but not the right parts. Then again, it didn’t matter. She would look gorgeous in a burlap sack. Her hair was coiled loosely in a braided ponytail, and it draped casually down her left side, almost covering her heart. It was casual, and it was sexy as hell.

But that didn’t matter. I was pissed. I walked slowly towards her. “You lied to me.”

Her voice was calm and she didn’t move. “No, I didn’t.”

“You used me.”

She nodded. “Perhaps. I needed to know.”

I closed in on her until her back was up against the aged white wall. “Why? Why did you need to know I could wield magic?”

She turned her head away. “I have my reasons.”

“What? So you can tell your sister and she can toss me through a banishment portal?”

Her eyes widened in shock. “No! No, I’m not going to tell Regina.”

“Then what? This was all a game to you? Having me jump through hoops the past thirty-six hours just to satisfy your curiosity?”

She grinned and quipped, “Oops?”

That was it. I grabbed her shoulders and shoved her against the wall with a growl. “This game of yours is over, Miss Mills. Now you’re going to pay me what you owe me, because ‘Surprise!’ I know where your pendant is.”

Her eyes darkened to the color of the sea before a storm. “That’s what you want? Payment? Well, go ahead. Take whatever you want.”

It’s a challenge. It’s there in her tone, in her eyes, in the tension of her body under my palms. The energy between us that sparked in my office now surged and arced with an urgency that I couldn’t deny. I decided right then to hell with rules. To hell with everything. I was going to take exactly what I wanted, and then some.

I crushed myself against her, planting one hand on the wall near her head and the other right beside her hip. “I know what I want. Ready to pay up?”

Her lips were but an inch away from mine, but instinct said not to kiss her. I’d be lost to her forever if I kissed her. They parted in a startled little ‘o’ when I pressed my hips into hers, and I didn’t wait for her reply. I buried my face in her neck, just like I’d dreamed of doing for the past day and a half. Her scent made me dizzy, and when I grazed my teeth against her skin, she moaned. I ran my hand up her thigh, lifting the silken gown up. I expected some type of undergarments, but when I kept going, and found nothing, I realized that fancy green outfit was all she was wearing.

She hadn’t been idle either; she somehow got me out of my grass-stained jacket and was fumbling with the buttons on my shirt. I stopped devouring her skin for a second. She was right. I had on way too many clothes.

“Oh, to hell with this,” she snarled and with a wave of her hand, my shirt disappeared.

I looked down. So did she, her brows raised at what she found there. But before she got any ideas about zapping my pants away, I had to remove my gun.

“Stay,” I told her, holding up one finger.

“I am _not_ a pet.”

I ran that finger down her cheek, and she shivered beneath my touch. “Stay,” I said softly.

I undid my holster and set it and the .38 on a nearby end table. I took a page from her book and eliminated my shoes and socks with a wave of my hand. But the black pants I kept on. I needed something to help me keep my sanity.

When I returned to stand before her, those blue eyes latched onto mine. “You want me.” It wasn’t a question.

“Yes.” I ran my fingers down her cheek, down her throat and she shivered again.

“You wanted me from the moment I walked through your door.”

I nipped at her collarbone and she leaned her head against mine. Her hair was smooth, and smelled of hibiscus. “Yes.”

She breathed hot against my ear, tickling my senses. I gasped against her skin when she palmed me through my pants. I could feel her running her fingernails up and down my length and my vision was starting to cloud.

Her body was firm beneath the silken gown, and she purred whenever I touched her. I was more than willing to dedicate an eternity to exploring every inch of her, but right now, I had to have her or what she was doing to me was going to send me over the edge.

With a snap of my fingers, my clothes were gone. I pressed against her while lifting her up, essentially pinning her to the wall. Long legs interlocked around my hips and I ground myself into her softness.

She whimpered and lowered her head into the hollow of my neck. I did it again, and the groan that vibrated through her was intoxicating. I couldn’t wait any longer. I shifted her hips and guided her down onto me. She shuddered, arching her back against the wall as I buried myself deep within her.

I lost myself to her, driven further into insanity with each soft cry she made. I couldn’t stop it if I tried; I wanted to make her scream. I pushed deeper, and harder, and I felt her nails rake my back as she clung to me. Her teeth were sharp on my skin and I was panting in her ear. It wasn’t enough and I pounded into her, turning her cries into choppy gasps. I felt her body open to mine, a sense of welcome, a sense of permission for the invasion. I slowed myself enough to stroke her fully, again and again. This drove her mad and she dug her claws into my shoulder blades and bit down hard against the base of my neck with a keening growl.

I followed suit against the softness of her shoulder, right above that delicate collarbone that haunted my fantasies. She cried out and I bit down harder, feeling the skin break under my teeth. The metallic tang of her blood against my tongue did something feral to me, and I drew her skin into my mouth, tasting it all. My hips ground into her as she tightened her legs around me. She pushed back, sending me in so deep I thought I’d drown. It became a war between us, the two of us holding ourselves in check, refusing to let go. But it couldn’t last forever, and when I wedged my hand between us and swirled my thumb against that sensitive spot, I felt her quiver. I pressed down hard and drove myself into her, my teeth still clamped on her broken skin. She screamed when she finally shattered, and between her cries and the pull of her body against mine, I crashed into her, my own voice mixing with hers as waves of pleasure overloaded my senses.

We didn’t move for at least a minute afterwards. I couldn’t. My forehead was plastered against her wall, my hands were clenched tightly around her ass, and I didn’t think I knew how to make any part of my body function properly ever again. The air in the room grew cold. We couldn’t stay like this.

I lifted her slowly off me and pressed her back against the wall. Her legs unwrapped from mine, and found the floor again. I stepped away from her and she reached for me, leaning heavily against my chest.

“Please,” she whispered. “Don’t leave me.”

I hadn’t planned on it. My head was starting to clear and I made the conscious decision to take us both to someplace a lot more comfortable. I scooped her up in my arms and she clung to me, limp as a rag doll.

“Where’s you bed?”

“Upstairs.”

It figured I’d have to carry her up a flight of steps when I could barely walk myself. But I did it, and when I saw her neatly made bed I tilted my head to magically pull back the blanket. Once enough of her cream-colored sheets were exposed, I untangled her from my shoulders and settled her in. She murmured softly, and I ran my fingers gently over her cheek. But when my gaze followed them as they traveled down her neck, what I saw dropped a cold, icy pit into my soul. Her pretty dressing gown was shredded - torn up both sides, and her shoulder, where I bit her, was bruised and smeared with blood. I knelt beside her in an instant, stroking her hair. It was damp with sweat.

“Dear God, Zelena… what did I do to you?”

She blinked sleepily and smiled at me. “I dunno… but I do hope you’ll do it again.”

“Zelena, I hurt you.”

She shifted herself so she could sit up and lean against her arm. She twisted her neck and tried to see where I bit her. Tentatively, she touched it. “Ooh. That’ll leave a mark.”

“Not if I have any say in the matter.” Healing magic was advanced, and I only tried it once in my youth. But I couldn’t bear to look at that wound one second longer. I closed my eyes and thought of nothing but calm, of a still pond with sparkling clear water. I opened them and waved my hand over her shoulder. A blue energy glowed and then faded, leaving pale, perfect skin in its place.

She flopped back down and laid her head on her pillow, moaning slightly. “You always were good at that.”

“What do you mean?”

“Healing magic. Care to try it out?”

What in the world was she talking about?

She grinned up at me. “You really are clueless. Go look in the mirror.” Confused, I followed her advice and walked over to her vanity, the one enchanted with seer magic.

“Not that one, you fool. Over there.” She pointed to the other side of the room, to an ornate freestanding mirror. I stood before it, and gasped.

Blood still oozed from a bite on my neck and my chest was the aftermath of a cat fight.

“Turn around,” she called.

I obeyed, and did a double-take at what I saw. I had thought the pain I was feeling in my shoulders was from lifting her. No, it was from the deep cuts she’d carved out of my flesh. I looked like I’d lost a battle with a Cuisinart.

“Holy shit,” I mumbled.

I turned towards her. She was sitting up now, shrouded in a new dressing gown and looking perfect and beautiful. “Now,” she said, “come here.”

I plodded back to her bedside, still shocked by the freak show that was my reflection. Jesus H. Christ. We tore each other apart.

“Zelena…”

“Shh… stay still.”

She smiled and waved her hand over my neck. The warmth that spread through me was like nothing I’ve ever felt. It sent such joy and peace throughout my body I just wanted to lie down and die in it.

She did it again for my chest, and I know I moaned. God did it feel good.

I dimly heard her say, “Turn around,” and I must have complied, because the magic that coated my back dropped me to my knees.

“Feel better?”

That was putting it lightly. “What the hell kind of magic is that?”

She slid over to the middle of the bed and patted the spot she just vacated. “Sit.”

What’s she up to?

“Just do it, hmm?”

I sighed. “All right.” I settled in next to her, and she pulled the covers over us. Really, it was kind of nice.

“Relax. I need to tell you something.” She held out her left hand over my shoulder, the one was wrapped in a bandage. “Do you remember, years ago, a little girl in pigtails, lost in the woods?”

No… it couldn’t be. I grabbed her hand and tried to remove the bandage, but when I touched it, magic sparked against me and pushed my hand away.

“It’s protected, doof. For good reason.”

I can’t even think straight any more. “Zelena, that was you?”

“Yes it was.” She waved her hand over the bandage, and it evaporated in a puff of green smoke. Underneath it, at the base of her palm, was a thick scar tinged with blue that pulsed with each beat of her heart.

“You were alone," I said. "Hurt. You were crying.” I remembered that day vividly. I was nineteen, and it was the first time I performed real magic. Healing magic. I apparently botched the job, given the scar I left.

She pressed her forehead against my shoulder. “My father beat me that morning. You didn’t know that part, but that’s why I was out there. I was running away.”

“You told me you fell.”

“I did, and that is how I cut my wrist. It was on a rock. But the bruises…”

I turned over and faced her. I knew there’d be tears in her eyes but it broke my heart to see them just the same. I drew her close to me, and she sighed against my neck.

“You did heal me. And you saw what my magic did to you, how it felt. Well, yours does the same to me. Once I ... got things settled, I started looking for you. It’s fate – the two of us.”

This was insanity. It wasn’t destiny that I stumbled across her in the woods that day. It was sheer dumb luck.

She read my mind like an open book. “Calm down. I’m not proposing anything here. I’m just stating reality.”

This isn’t my reality. My reality is no magic, no money and no beautiful redheads spinning tales of synchronicity.

“Aren’t you even curious about the scar? That’s the best part.”

“I can fix it now, if that’s what you’re looking for.”

She shook her head. “You can’t.”

That’s ridiculous. “Why not?”

“Because, Detective Hades, that day in the woods, when you helped heal a little girl’s bumps and bruises, you also gave her magic.”

“No…” I couldn’t have. One doesn’t just transfer magical ability to another person. That kind of power doesn’t exist. “Zelena, magic doesn’t work like that.”

She raised an eyebrow in question. “Doesn’t it? Want to know how my sister got her powers?”

I sat up straight in the bed. “Are you telling me that I gave you magic, and you then went and gave it to your sister?”

“Yep.”

“The same sister that has _banned_ magic in Storybrooke and banishes anyone that practices it into a black hole of nothing?”

“Well, maybe now you can understand why she feels the way she does.”

“Huh?”

“Think about it. What if anyone could give magic to anyone else? What would that mean?”

Oh dear god. She was right. I never thought about it, but magic in the wrong hands could be devastating. “We’d all slaughter each other within days, if not hours.”

“Exactly. Regina respects magic, and she knows its not for everyone. There’s a price to pay for it. I’m sure you know that.”

I certainly did, and that was why I avoided it. Until tonight, when I burned through it like a pyromaniac. Because of her.

“Zelena. We can’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“This. What we did. Magic. It’s wrong, all of it.” There’s emotion in my voice, emotion that I can’t choke down. “Look at what I did to you. Look at what we did _to each other._ You can’t possibly think this… us… is a good idea.”

She sat up straight and pulled away from me. “So, the cold, calculating detective with anger management issues now has a conscience. How convenient, after the fact.”

“I do not have anger management issues and I’ve always had a conscience.” The fact that I snarled every single word was beside the point.

She laughed wickedly. “Denial doesn’t suit you, Hades. Who you were tonight, with me, is who you really are. Why try to fight it?”

She was right. Deep down, I knew it. I was that man. I’ve always been that man, but she brings him out and I’m not sure if that’s what I want.

I scanned her bedroom, noting the fine furniture, her closet of designer clothes. She lived the good life, and she used magic to make it happen. Magic I gave her. Why couldn’t I do the same? I wouldn’t have to hide in fear, now that I understood Regina’s reasoning behind her no-magic ordinance. Also, bedding her sister probably bought me immunity.  A way into the inner circle.

I could live any way I liked, within reason. Zelena had a valid cover for her wealth. I could create the same. I even understood why she was out here in the middle of nowhere.

“Think about it,” she said simply. “I know it’s a lot.”

I sighed. It was more than a lot. It was a complete overhaul of everything I knew, of who I was and the man I wanted to be.

I sat silent, staring out her bedroom window, until the sun peeked up over the horizon. Suddenly I was tired. Drained. I had a helluva day.

“I need to go.”

Her hand touched my shoulder, feather-light. “Don’t. Stay. Rest. Later on, I’ll even feed you. I know you’re tired of beans.”

How’d she know that? Oh hell, I don’t even care any more. I yawned and dropped my head down onto her pillow. It was like resting on a cloud. I felt her pull the covers up around me, and then she waved her hand and the room went dark.

“Sweet dreams, detective.”

That’d be a first. But maybe, with her, there was a chance.

**Author's Note:**

>   * I've been itching to do a gritty detective noir-type fic for months, way before Zades even existed. And I've really wanted to write Zades smut. But I struggled with how to make it happen...until a plot bunny bit me Saturday morning. Nasty, dirty little thing, wasn't he?
>   * I told UnfairestOfThemAll \- If there is a Hell, I am most certainly going to burn in it for this. Cuz this is just wrong on all kinds of levels.
>   * The seer spell Hades uses is based on supplements that improve vision. The bone is Calcium and it’s from a crow b/c they have excellent vision. The almond sap is Vitamin E. The orange is Vitamin C. The garlic is Zinc. The truth serum is for clarity. The camera lens is to focus/zoom. Yes, I am a complete geek.
> 

> 
> See you next Wednesday in _Fatus Cinereum_.


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